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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419072">growing up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/guccipherous/pseuds/guccipherous'>guccipherous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>g.i.n.a.s.f.s. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drug Use, M/M, alcohol use, owen is back</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:28:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/guccipherous/pseuds/guccipherous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After breaking up, Owen and Spencer still find each other when they need each other. Some short (not really) one-offs that go through criminal minds. following my other work calm before the storm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>g.i.n.a.s.f.s. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer hadn’t been able to get Owen out of his mind. Even though they only talked when they were in each other’s cities, Spencer didn’t think he would ever be able to move on. Maybe it was the fact he could never forget anything- especially how loved he felt with Owen. He had been with the BAU for nine months now and had fully settled into his new routine.</p><p>Every Monday morning, he would water his plants, put fish food in the timed feeder, and pack his go-bag. He would miss the first two trains and settle for the third, and he would be on a jet to somewhere else by lunch. Spencer <em>loved</em> his life.</p><p>Owen was due to arrive in DC on a Thursday night- he told Spencer that there was some physics conference going on in DC and he was planning some small-scale fraud to stay with Spencer instead of a hotel. Spencer’s stomach had been doing backflips all day, but it might’ve been the coffee he had been drinking. Spencer had rushed through some of his closing paperwork to make sure that he would be able to get out of Quantico with enough time to shower before he had to go to Dulles to pick up Owen.</p><p>His team could sense something was going on with Spencer, mostly because it wouldn’t take a profiler to figure out Spencer was anxious about <em>something</em>. He had taken to pacing around the round-table room while reading case files, and he had ducked out for more smoke breaks than usual. </p><p>
  <em>It’s a bad habit. You shouldn’t pick it up if you can avoid it.</em>
</p><p>Owen’s voice rang through Spencer’s mind every time he lit up, reminding him that he was smart enough to have never started smoking in the first. Didn’t make much of a difference when he couldn’t go an hour without a cigarette, and it didn’t change the fact that Spencer had grown fond of the smell of American Spirits, light green.</p><p>Somehow, Spencer made it to 5:00, just in time to hit the locker rooms at Quantico before he had to head out to the airport. He was nervous, he could feel the sweat pricking in his armpits as he fiddled with the radio while he drove. Owen never used to make Spencer nervous, but ever since they had started their long-distance causal relationship Spencer had been having anxiety episodes every time he was supposed to see Owen.</p><p>Owen kissed Spencer when he picked him up from the airport, and Spencer didn’t immediately push him off. Spencer assumed Owen was on some sort of emotional high- same-sex marriage had been legalized in Massachusetts the month before and Owen called him blackout drink in some gay bar to scream in his ear about it. Plus, Spencer appreciated the affection. He had been trying to date since he last saw Owen, but with how much he traveled for work he rarely made it past the second date.</p><p>Kissing Owen felt like home, even though Spencer really <em>did </em>feel at home in DC.</p><p>            There was more to the question of whether or not Spencer loved Owen- he couldn’t quite puzzle out what the feeling in his chest was. They didn’t hold hands as they walked to Spencer’s car, Spencer was sure to walk a few steps ahead of Owen at all times so he wouldn’t be tempted. They resigned themselves to small talk while they walked to Spencer’s car, and Spencer made the split-second choice to hand Owen the keys to drive home.</p><p>            “I don’t think I can drive, babe. I had a few too many beers in the airport bar and they had half-off Cape Cods on the flight.”</p><p>            Spencer laughed at that, but he couldn’t shake the fact that he couldn’t tell Owen was tipsy. Spencer was also excited to drive Owen somewhere, something Owen usually protested if he was able to.</p><p>            When Spencer hit 110 on the highway back to DC, Owen didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he bent down to rummage through his backpack for something, muttering something under his breath as he went.</p><p>            “What?”</p><p>“I said that I guess this is probably the best time to tell you that I don’t actually have a conference to go to.”</p><p>Spencer choked on the coffee he was sipping, spitting coffee out on to his pants.</p><p>Fuck. He had just done laundry.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I wanted an excuse to come out and see you, I guess.” Owen lit a cigarette as he cracked his window. “I had to ‘consult’ with some people on my thesis and I picked somebody at George Washington so I could come down and see you, but it really could’ve been done over email if I wanted to.”</p><p>“So, you fabricated an elaborate backstory to get MIT to fly you out- all so you could see me?”</p><p>“Yes.” Owen stared at Spencer, who kept his eyes ahead of him on the road. “Are you mad?”</p><p>“I think it’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever done for me.”</p><p>“Don’t read too much into it, babe.” Owen said, blowing out a mouthful of smoke, “I think I’m in love with this girl I met last weekend.”</p><p>“Oh really?”</p><p>“Yeah- her name is Afra. I think you’d like her- she’s a waitress at the bar we used to go to all the time.”</p><p>“You think I’d <em>like </em>her?”</p><p>“Well, maybe like is a strong word, but I think you’d get along.”</p><p>“Can we not talk about the other people you’re dating right now.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m not dating her. More like met her once and got her number, and now I’m too scared to talk to her.”</p><p>“Still.”</p><p>Spencer held his hand out and Owen stuck his half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. Spencer laughed and brought it to his lips. It was strangely intimate- sharing a cigarette with the only person Spencer had ever really loved before, and Spencer tried to squash the feelings bubbling up in his stomach.</p><p>“So, what are our plans for dinner?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Owen rolled over in bed, head pounding and his mouth dry, sliding his feet onto Spencer’s warm thigh in his half-awake state. He groaned and threw his arm over Owen, pulling the man into his arms. Owen curled into Spencer’s side and yawned, getting comfortable for a minute before he remembered it was a Friday. He looked down at his watch- 9:38 a.m. plenty of time before his 11:40 meeting with a professor at George Washington. Spencer kissed the crown of his head as he woke up.</p><p>“It’s nice waking up next to you.” He mumbled into his hair, tracing his fingers along his stomach as he spoke. “Almost makes me want to quit his job.”</p><p>“You better not. I didn’t break your heart only for you to quit your job.”</p><p>Spencer rolled his eyes and moved closer to Owen in bed.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Spencer kissed the top of his head again, before kissing the back of his ear, his neck, and his shoulder, holding his lover tighter with each peck. Owen had to admit- Spencer <em>got</em> him on a level nobody else ever had. Plus, there was that thing he did with his tongue that drove Owen <em>wild</em>, which was a pretty convincing argument on its own.</p><p>“What time is it?” He asked, still kissing Owen’s neck with one hand making its way up his thigh. “Because I can think of so many things I want to do to you before I have to go to work.”</p><p>“9:42”</p><p>Spencer stopped kissing Owen and sat up, pushing off the sheets and duvet as he got up. “I’m late for work.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I have to be at work by 8. I’m gonna shower super quick and beg for forgiveness on the car ride over. Could you please, please make me a coffee before I go get chewed out by Hotch?”</p><p>“Sure,” Owen said, rolling out of bed and stretching next to Spencer as he got out of the bed, getting up and walking around the room, grabbing the first top he saw. “Hot or Iced?”</p><p>“I don’t care as long as it’s caffeinated.” Spencer called as he walked into the bathroom.</p><p>Owen made his way into the kitchen in just his boxers and one of Spencer’s button-downs, listening to him turn on the sink and the shower attempting to speed up his morning routine. I turned on the kettle and got out the coffee and the French Press, before making his way to the fridge and pulling out a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs for his own breakfast. His morning routine was constant with or without Spencer, so he went through the motions with ease even in his hungover state. Owen started washing the dishes in the sink- a lot of glasses and a cocktail shaker.</p><p>He was pouring the hot water into the French Press when there were three quick knocks on the front door.</p><p>Startled, Owen opened the door to see a tall man in a suit.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong place. I’m looking for Dr. Spencer Reid?”</p><p>“Who’s asking?” Owen crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway.</p><p>“I’m S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner, his boss. And you are?”</p><p>“Owen Polk, his … boyfriend.” Owen stuck his hand out to shake and he took it. Firm grip, big hands, wedding ring on his left hand. “He’s in the shower right now, if you want to come in.”</p><p>“Sure.” Aaron stepped into the living room, awkward and unsure of how to proceed. “I didn’t know Reid…”</p><p>“That Spencer what?” Owen prepared himself for the inevitable, the homophobic remark, the comment made without a thought about how <em>nobody</em> could’ve guessed that Spencer Reid, Ph D. was dating a man with painted nails and a handful of <em>very</em> noticeable hickies.</p><p>“Dated, honestly. The team kind of assumed he was a hopeless cause.” Aaron cracked a smile and his face warmed up. “It’s nice to see that he has a life outside of work.”</p><p>“Not really much time for that, with how much you guys travel.” Owen walked back into the kitchen, leaving Aaron in the living room. “Do you want coffee?”</p><p>“I’d love some, thanks.” He looked around Spence’s apartment as Owen poured him a cup.</p><p>“How long have you and Spencer been together?”</p><p>            “Two years I think? Somewhere around there.” Owen tripped on his words as he handed him the mug. The two of them sat down at Spencer’s dining room table, Aaron removing his overcoat and hung it up on the back of his chair. “We were both students at MIT when we met, and when he got the job in the BAU he both moved here.”</p><p>“You don’t live here?”</p><p>            “I live in Boston- I’m in the middle of my Ph.D. right now. I’m just in town right now because I’m meeting with somebody at George Washington.”</p><p>            Aaron’s face broke into a smile. “That’s where I got my law degree! What are you studying?”</p><p>            “Astrophysics!” Owen smiled at Aaron- he was cuter than he would have imagined and surprisingly easy to talk to. “Do you want milk or sugar or anything?”</p><p>            “No, black is fine.”</p><p>            Owen lit a cigarette as he drank his coffee, examining the man sitting across from him. Something was setting Owen on edge, keeping him from letting his guard down. Owen heard the shower squeak off in the bathroom and excused himself to go warn Spencer of what was waiting in the kitchen. Knocking twice on the bathroom door before entering, Owen walked into the small steam-filled room and shut the door behind me.</p><p>            “Owen, I don’t have time for this- Hotch is going to <em>kill </em>me when I get to work.” Spencer said, pulling on his underwear and attempting to towel dry his hair at the same time.</p><p>            “He’s here.”</p><p>            “He’s here?”</p><p>            “Sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.” Owen took a drag of his cigarette and ashed it into the sink as Spencer buttoned his shirt.</p><p>            “Mother fucking- shit, I don’t know… Did you talk to him?”</p><p>            “Yeah?”<br/>
            “Fuck!” Spencer exclaimed, still trying to rush through getting dressed. He had buttoned his shirt crooked and Owen reached out to fix it for him as Spencer zipped his fly. “Did he seem mad? And are you smoking in front of him?”</p><p>            “Yeah?”</p><p>            “Goddammit!” He exclaimed as Owen smoothed his collar as he pulled on his cardigan. “Where’s my tie?”</p><p>            “I don’t think you grabbed one.” Owen took a step back from Spencer as he fixed his hair in the mirror. “Are you okay? Are you going to get in trouble for this?”</p><p>            “No, it’s not that. It’s just I didn’t anticipate coming out to the team like this, to Hotch of all people first, hungover, an hour and a half late for work, with you in your underwear smoking a cigarette.” Spencer reached for the door handle and paused before he turned it. “Are there any drugs out?”</p><p>            “I don’t know, does he care?”</p><p>            “Owen I’m really not trying to get fired today.”</p><p>            “You won’t.” Owen opened the door for him and kissed his cheek as the two of them walked out.</p><p>            Aaron was still sitting at our dining room table, drinking his black coffee, a slight smile on his face. He had probably heard the hushed argument from out there. Aaron stood up when Spencer walked out into the living room, picking up his coat from the chair.</p><p>            “Reid.”</p><p>            “I know sir, I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again.”</p><p>            “Reid.”</p><p>            “We just got in so late last night and I forgot to set an alarm and I was going to call from the car.”</p><p>            “Reid!”</p><p>            “Yes sir?”</p><p>            “Why didn’t you tell me that you were in a serious relationship? Are you not comfortable enough with the team to share something like this? In any team, but specifically ours, honesty is crucial if we’re going to operate as well as we can.”</p><p>            “I’m sorry sir.”</p><p>            It was a little funny to see Spencer defer to somebody, in the entire time we had been dating Owen had never seen him so apologetic. He was cute when he was submissive, and it was nice to see somebody else boss him around.</p><p>            “You need to answer his question, Reid. If you aren’t comfortable sharing something so important with the team we need to have a larger conversation.”</p><p>            Spencer stopped tying his shoes and stood up, standing between Aaron and Owen. Owen stubbed out his cigarette and lit a second one as Spencer started speaking, voice quiet but firm,</p><p>            “With all due respect, sir, you don’t expect anybody else to share their personal lives. You don’t ask Morgan about the last girl he had a one-night stand with, or J.J. how her dates are going. Why am I being held to a different standard? Is it because I’m new, or is it because I’m gay?”</p><p>            Aaron was silent as he looked at Spencer. Before he responded, he took the time to smooth out his shirt and straighten his tie.  </p><p>“It’s the rest of the team has been nothing but honest and open with you. I can understand being hesitant to come out, I can understand being private, but after so long with the BAU, I would hope that you would feel like you can have these conversations with the team. If you’re unable to address something as important as this, then how can I expect you to be honest in your work?”</p><p>“I’m sorry sir.”</p><p>            “Don’t apologize.” Aaron handed Owen his coffee mug and picked his jacket up off of the back of his chair. “Thank you for the coffee, Owen. It was lovely meeting you. Reid, I’ll be waiting outside.”</p><p>            Aaron walked out of the small apartment and closed the door behind him. Owen took a drag from his cigarette as Spencer sat down at the table, resting his head in his hands.</p><p>            “He’s wrong, you know.” Owen said, standing up and moving to pour Spencer a cup of coffee, to go. “You don’t have to come out to anybody. Especially your boss and especially if you don’t want to. That’s why it’s called <em>Don’t Ask Don’t Tell</em>, Spencer.”</p><p>            “I know.” Spencer grabbed Owen’s pack of cigarettes from the table and lit one of his own, taking a deep inhale and blowing smoke across the room. “I just... it’s hard”</p><p>            “I know.” Owen handed Spencer his coffee mug and kissed the top of his head before he stood up.</p><p>            “Can I make it up to you?”</p><p>            “Just don’t get killed out there, okay?”</p><p>            Spencer laughed as he stood up and kissed Owen with a mouth full of cigarette smoke and black coffee. “I’ll do my best.”</p><p>            He grabbed his bag and his coat as he opened the front door, Aaron waiting in the hallway for him.</p><p>            “Ready to go?”</p><p>            “Yes sir.”</p><p>            The door closed with a slam and Owen was left alone in Spencer’s apartment, once again.</p><p>            Some things never did change.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was a painfully boring day. Owen had a productive day, sure, meeting with some Professor Emeritus who creeped him out for most of the afternoon, and swinging by the grocery store after he left the George Washington to get something for dinner. Spencer was never too fond of cooking, and that with the fact that he was only in his apartment half the time meant that his cabinet had been bare bones when Owen peaked in making breakfast. He ended up splurging on a nicer than usual bottle of rosé for dinner since he would be home with Spencer.</p><p>Spencer called Owen right as he was walking to his car to let him know he was heading home, and that Hotch was giving him a ride.</p><p>“Ask him if he wants to stay for dinner.”</p><p>            “Owen I’m sure he has-”</p><p>            “Spencer. Ask him.”</p><p>            Spencer sighed and Owen knew he was rolling his eyes on his side of the phone. “No.”</p><p>            He hung up the phone before Owen even had a chance to protest.</p><p>Twenty minutes after Spencer hung up the phone he burst through the door with a bottle of champagne and six wilting roses. He had clearly gone to the corner store a block away from his apartment. Owen was laying on the couch, flipping through an old sci-fi novel that he had found on one of the bookshelves.</p><p>“Hi, babe!” Spencer said a little too loud, dropping his messenger bag before going to join Owen on the couch. “Do you know what Hotch told me?”</p><p>Owen set down his book and rolled his eyes at Spencer, putting his feet in his lap and grabbing the roses from him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That he was surprised I had been dating you for so long, seeing as I’ve had a few extraordinarily awful blind dates that he remembered.”</p><p>“Well, you could’ve done that when we were dating,” Owen pointed out. “I figured it was better to tell him you were in a relationship than that you were having casual, emotionally messy, gay sex.”</p><p>            “I know.” Spencer said, handing Owen the bottle of champagne as well, “This is me saying thank you”</p><p>Owen sniffed the roses- even if they were dying he still appreciated the gesture. “You know I already bought a bottle of wine for tonight.”</p><p>“We can have two.” Spencer offered, running his hand up Owen’s calf. “One for me, and one for you.”</p><p>The two of them laughed and Owen made quick work of peeling the foil off of the top of the champagne bottle, freeing the cage. He pointed the bottle towards the front door and popped the cork, sending it flying across the room. He was even quicker to start drinking the wine spilling out of the top of the bottle, taking a long drink before passing the bottle to Spencer.</p><p>The two of them took turns drinking the champagne until the bottle was empty. He pulled the two of them up off the floor, leading the way to the kitchen.</p><p>“What kind of wine did you get?”</p><p>            “A rosé,” Owen said, throwing the bottle into the trash as the two of them walked by. “Why?”</p><p>“Dinner?” Spencer spun Owen around on his heel and pulled him in close, pressing his chest against Owens back. “I’m hungry.”</p><p>“What are you cooking?”</p><p>“Cooking? Me?” Spencer laughed before he pulled the champagne bottle from Owen’s hand, finishing it off and setting it down on the counter. “I was thinking of ordering a pizza, honestly.”</p><p>“I went grocery shopping earlier.”</p><p>            “Oh?” Spencer asked, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out the bottle of rosé I had bought. “There is more food here than usual.”</p><p>            “Yeah.”</p><p>            Owen opened cabinets and drawers looking for the corkscrew, and when he found it Spencer grabbed it out of his hand. Spencer had his cell phone stuck between his ear and his shoulder, and made easy work of uncorking the bottle of rosé.</p><p>            “Hi, hello can I place an order for delivery?”</p><p>            Spencer had big hands, beautiful to watch work.</p><p>            “The name is Spencer, Spencer Reid. Yes, same address as before.”</p><p>            He tore the foil off of the top of the bottle and dug the corkscrew into the soft cork of the bottle.</p><p>            “Can I get two medium pizzas and a chicken Caesar salad? A Hawaiian and then a marguerite, please.”</p><p>            He yanked on the corkscrew hard and the bottle opened with a <em>pop</em>, and Owen was waiting with two wine glasses.</p><p>            “I’ll pay with cash. Yeah, thanks.”</p><p>Spencer hung up the phone and poured two large glasses of rosé, and as he handed one to Owen he laughed.</p><p>“Pizza will be here in an hour.” The two of them clinked their glasses together and Spencer leaned against the kitchen counter. “What do we do until then?”</p><p>“Hmm…” Owen laughed as he thought, “I can think of a few things I want you to do.”</p><p>“Oh?” Spencer sipped his wine and reached out for Owen’s free hand, pulling his <strike>boyfriend</strike> closer to him. “Tell me.”</p><p>“Well, for starters you can pick up your dirty clothes.” Owen pressed a kiss onto Spencer’s cheek, reaching up on his toes. “And then if there’s time left I got some film developed that I think you should see.”</p><p>“Film? From when?”</p><p>“Just from moving, I think.” Owen rested his head on Spencer’s shoulder. “But I guess we’ll find out when you clean up.”</p><p>Spencer groaned and kissed the top of Owen’s head as he straightened out, downing the rest of his glass of wine and kicking his shoes off as he walked through the living room. Owen finished his wine and poured himself another in the kitchen, hitting play on the stereo. and Spencer’s classical music filled the apartment as Owen plopped down on the couch. He had a perfect view of Spencer dancing and cleaning in his bedroom- a brief reminder of their domestic bliss.</p><p>Watching Spencer clean was some form of entertainment for Owen- Spencer was so messy most of the time, leaving books half-read on every surface, throwing his clothes on the floor, dropping pens and lighters everywhere. He loved to clean, though- put everything back where it belonged, at least until it got messy again. While Spencer cleaned, Owen sorted the prints he had ordered. Spencer finished cleaning up his apartment right as Owen finished going through the stack, sorting out the stack of 4x6’s and grinning. Owen’s photography phase worked out well with Spencer’s chemistry fascination- the two of them usually developed their film in the bathroom with headlamps on- an exercise best done a little tipsy and very high. These prints were from disposable cameras, though, and Owen had only remembered to drop them off at the Rite Aid on the corner three weeks ago.</p><p>“These are from moving?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.” Owen turned around to face Spencer, shoving the prints in his hands a little too rough. “But I just finished the cameras a month ago- that’s when I sent them in.”</p><p>Spencer smiled, thumbing through the first few before setting the prints down on the table. “Did you get the slides?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Or the positives, at least?” Spencer mumbled his words through a kiss on Owen’s forehead. “I found the projector when I was cleaning up- the sheet too.”</p><p>“Oh really?”</p><p>“It’ll be just like in grad school.”</p><p>Spencer and Owen went through the familiar motions, falling back into old routines. Owen stood on the back of the couch and hung a sheet to the wall with pushpins shaped like spaceships. Spencer found the slides in the envelope and warmed up the projector.</p><p>“What are we going to listen to?”</p><p>Spencer looked up from the projector at Owen, surprised by the question. “You normally pick the music.”</p><p>“Well yeah, but I’m tired of it!” Owen laughed from on top of the couch and he waved his hand towards the bookcase full of CDs to his left. “Pick something!”</p><p>Spencer’s social anxiety usually kicked into full effect at times like this, even after knowing Owen for so long he was still <em>so</em> worried about picking the wrong music. But there he was, half a bottle of wine in on an empty stomach and feeling bold. He picked an album by the cover like he usually did- <em>The Velvet Underground &amp; Nico </em>self-titled. Spencer remembered buying it for Owen in a used CD store in some yuppie suburb, sticker still on the cover. He remembered Owen immediately peeling the sticker off and sticking it in his journal, forcing Spencer to listen to it every time they got in the car for the next six weeks. He also remembered Owen gifting Spencer half of his CD collection when Spencer moved, something he didn’t ask for when they broke up.</p><p>Spencer loaded the CD into the stereo and topped off the two wine glasses on the counter right as the doorbell rang.</p><p>Spencer and Owen both called out “Just a minute!” and locked eyes with each other across the room, bursting out in laughter. The two of them raced to untangle themselves from what they were doing- Spencer beat Owen to the door and opened it up.</p><p>“Hi, yeah here’s the money.” Spencer handed the driver a fifty-dollar bill and grabbed the takeout from the man gently. “Keep the change.”</p><p>Owen shut the door as Spencer sat everything down on the coffee table. They rushed to finish everything they had to do- mixing drinks and hanging up sheets, lining up the projector, and making sure the image was in focus. Spencer hit play and walked over to Owen, both glasses in his hand, one with the remainder of the rosé and the other with some pinkish reddish mixed drink in the other.</p><p>“Pick your poison, babe. Tonight, it’s just like the old days.” Spencer coaxed, pushing the mixed drink into his partner’s hand as he fell onto the couch.</p><p>“The slides are loaded, all you have to do is start them.”</p><p>Owen was laying on the floor with his back against an armchair, the salad in his lap as he picked at it with a fork. Spencer looked at him and he saw the 21-year-old man he had fallen in love with, and then the 23-year-old PhD Candidate he was pretty sure he was in love with now.</p><p>“Hand me the Hawaiian, please. Oh, and the red chili flakes.”</p><p>Owen kissed the top of Spencer’s hand when he handed him the red pepper flakes and Spencer laughed so hard he snorted.</p><p>“You’re cute, you know. Even when we’re not dating.”</p><p>Owen rolled his eyes and hit advance on the clicker, and the wall of the living room lit up with a picture of Spencer, half-awake speeding down I-95 on the drive down.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>The next slide was another picture of Spencer, this time wearing gas station sunglasses, somewhere in Maryland. You could tell because he was holding a bottle of Old Bay towards the camera.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>A timed picture of Owen and Spencer in the doorway of the apartment. There were moving boxes stacked against the wall behind them. Spencer had kissed Owen at the last second, and Owen’s hands were thrown up. It was a cute picture, cute enough to make Owen and Spencer reach out for each other.</p><p>“We’re a pretty cute couple, you know,” Spencer said over a mouthful of ham and pineapple.</p><p>“We are!”</p><p>The two of them clinked their glasses together and laughed.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>Owen and Spencer looked up- the next slide was Spencer making out with some girl in a dive bar. Well, it wasn’t just <em>some</em> girl- she was one of the grad students who started the same time as Owen, but she was focused on Medieval Studies.</p><p> “Oh my god!” Spencer exclaimed, propping himself up on his eyebrows as he laughed at the slide. “You got that on <em>film</em>.”</p><p>“Well, of course, I did,” Owen said, sliding back to straddle Spencer on the floor. “It’s not every day your straight-edge boyfriend takes MDMA at a bar and ends up having a threesome in a single stall bathroom.”</p><p>That made Spencer laugh, and he laughed so hard he spilled his salad all over the floor. Spencer knelt down to clean up the mess, and he attempted to place a well-timed kiss on Owen’s wine-stained lips. The two of them ended up toppling over, rolling onto the floor, Owen on top. As he tried to get comfy, he hit the clicker and-</p><p>
  <em>Click.</em>
</p><p>A self-timer of Spencer leaving for his first day at the FBI Academy, hair combed and shirt tucked in. Owen was hanging off of him, in his underwear and glasses. The two of them were making out in the doorway, and he must have been more moved in then because the boxes were unpacked.</p><p>“Did I really kiss you like that on camera?” Spencer laughed, setting the pizza box down on the ground between him and his <strike>boyfriend</strike>.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know, don’t want my political career to be ruined by some softcore porn getting leaked.”</p><p>By now, Spencer was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his face. “I missed this, you know.”</p><p>Owen tensed up on Spencer’s lap, and Spencer's hands fell to Owen’s thighs.</p><p>“I do too”</p><p>Owen and Spencer were both, by now, very drunk. They were both a bottle of wine in, and they had drunk fast. Owen was mad, too- he couldn’t imagine a world where the people Spencer sat next to for 8 hours a day didn’t know that he was a gangly 6’3 encyclopedia of a man that he could drink a case of beer alone in a night if he put his mind to it, or that he could rip an 18-inch bong without flinching.</p><p> “I don’t know.” Owen rolled off of Spencer and laid beside him on the floor, reaching his arms around Spencer’s torso. “Do they know about your mom? Or your dad? Or how one time you peed yourself on a plane?”</p><p>“Why would I tell them that I peed myself on a plane!” Spencer said, in between laughs. “We fly everywhere, I’d never live it down.”</p><p>“What do your coworkers know about me?”</p><p>Owen propped himself up on his elbows and the two of them burst out laughing, tears streaming down their faces.</p><p>“They know that I was absolutely head over heels in love with you,” Spencer said, with that drunken half-smile taking over his face. “I think the words Hotch used were ‘completely, totally smitten.’”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>Owen pushed Spencer on, pretending like his heart didn’t break at Spencer’s use of past-tense.</p><p>“Yes. They know that you’re an all-star astrophysicist at MIT who wouldn’t move mid-program to live with me now. They also know that you’re the smartest person I know. They know you knit me that sweater, the green and yellow one, for our 6-month anniversary- the tech was pretty impressed by that one.”</p><p>“The tech?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“She has a name, Spencer.”</p><p>“Fine, <em>Penelope</em> was impressed by your knitting prowess.”</p><p> “Well, that’s nice.”</p><p>Owen reached out and kissed Spencer hard, teeth knocking together as they made out on the living room floor.</p><p>Yes, this was the good life. Growing up, free of the burden of reality, totally in control of their lives. This was their coming of age moment, the slide of Spencer making out with the grad student still on the wall above them and The Velvet Underground playing in the background. Owen had snuck a hand up under Spencer’s work shirt when Spencer hiccupped into his mouth, breaking the moment they were in.</p><p>Owen rolled off of Spencer and Spencer hiccupped again, louder this time as he reached for his lover.</p><p>“No, get back here!” Spencer exclaimed, “I wanna – hic- keep kissing you”</p><p>“Oh, you do?” Owen pushed himself up off of the floor and he reached for the clicker. “We have more pictures.”</p><p>“Can we do -hic- both?”</p><p>Owen rolled his eyes at Spencer down on the ground and he pressed on to the next photo.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>A candid of Owen doing a shot at some grimy bar in Dupont Circle- he was wearing his old clothes from undergrad, spiked leather jacket and combat boots with his hair spiked up and eyeliner smudged.</p><p>“I can’t believe I used to look like that every day,” Owen exclaimed, flopping down on the couch as Spencer settled in between his legs.</p><p>“I bet you were hot,” Spencer said, reaching his arms around Owen's thigh and snuggling into it. “Angry at the world before you could buy beer.”</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>Spencer lying in bed, nude, reading a first edition of some French novel.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>Spencer heading off for his first actual day in the BAU. He was hungover, so he was wearing his glasses, and he had a dark purple hickey peeking out from under his shirt collar.</p><p>Spencer laughed from his spot between Owen’s legs.  “I wore a sweater all day so nobody would see that, you know?”</p><p>“You had to wear one today, too, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Yes. Morgan pointed it out when we were all doing our paperwork together this afternoon.”</p><p>“What can I say- there’s something about you that makes me want to take a bite out of you.”</p><p>“Do you want the psychoanalysis for that?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>Owen looked down at Spencer, the taller man curled up in between Owen’s thighs, using them as pillows. Something pulled at his heart, made Owen realize that maybe he <em>did </em>love Spencer enough to keep doing the whole “flying out once a month” thing, even if he wasn’t really a relationship person.</p><p>Spencer had always been his exception.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy mf new year friends! here with an update. I have like??? two more chapters of this before I start working on some other shit but I'm also applying for my own PhD programs right now so.... who knows when those will happen.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Owen left DC that Monday, he didn’t text Spencer for four and a half months. An honest mistake, but he had been too busy with his thesis to even think about love. Afra fell to the side, too, and the only person Owen saw regularly was Mark. It was nice- being so busy that Owen didn’t have time to think about being in love with anybody, let alone somebody he had dumped a year ago.</p><p>Owen was plowing through his thesis, spending most of his time cycling between work and sleeping at home. He was trying to finish it as soon as he could- he was itching to move on from Boston. Even if he had all the good memories, he was still haunted by the bad ones.</p><p>3 years later, Owen still couldn’t go to the bar he was at when he got mugged. He couldn’t date anybody seriously because he didn’t want to take them back to the apartment he used to share with Spencer. Owen was still a little scared to come out to his advisor- a crotchety old man who probably knew Einstein himself back in the day (he had spent a lot of time referring to Spencer as his “roommate”).</p><p>Owen was also dead tired of academia. The constant struggle for funding, the limits of the institution, the fact that every conference he went to he got called a faggot at the hotel bar. He was considering running away from it all, throwing everything into the trunk of his car and taking off on a cross-country road trip to kill time. Spencer had sold out- working for the government for benefits and a plush salary, and Owen was steadfastly against doing the same thing. But Owen was overqualified for most entry-level jobs, and he was tired of what he was doing now.</p><p>Stuck with most of a PhD, Owen resigned himself to dealing with his existential crisis after he graduated. A problem for a different day.</p><hr/><p>Spencer called Owen from the backseat of the SUV, shivering as he dialed the numbers.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Owen, I can’t do this job anymore. I just…” Spencer couldn’t say the words. Had he <em>really</em> just killed somebody? Shooting somebody in the head didn’t seem like something Owen could sympathize with, but Spencer couldn’t think of anybody else he wanted to tell.</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>“Illinois.”</p><p>“Fuck.”  Spencer heard something crash in the background. “Do you want to come up to Boston? Or I can come to DC?”</p><p>“Would you mind?”</p><p>“Anything for you.”</p><p>“I can fly to Boston, I think.”</p><p>“Okay. Just text me your flight information and I’ll be there when you land.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Spencer snapped his cell-phone shut. He was sitting alone, in the dark backseat of an FBI-issue SUV, after he killed somebody. What had his life come to?</p><hr/><p>Hotch got Spencer on the first flight to Boston, paying out of pocket for the upgrade to first-class. It had been a hard week for Spencer, and Hotch didn’t mind helping the younger agent find some peace, even though the BAU was looking down their annual budget review.</p><p>Spencer practically collapsed into Owen’s car when he got to Boston. It was a short ride back to their old apartment, and Owen didn’t push Spencer to share anything besides meaningless small talk. The first thing Spencer did when they unlocked the door was head straight for Owen’s liquor cabinet, pulling out a handle of vodka and drinking it straight from the bottle. Owen watched with his eyebrows furrowed and cracked a smile when Spencer’s face scrunched up at the taste.</p><p>“I wasn’t going to ask what was wrong, but I’m a little concerned. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to talk you into shots, let alone drinking straight from the bottle.”</p><p>“Bad day” was all Spencer offered up.</p><p>Owen kept watching Spencer as the taller man rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the half-empty bottle of wine Owen had in there, along with some of the juice he knew Owen kept as mixers.</p><p>“If your day was this bad, do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>“Not now.”</p><p>Owen rolled his eyes and sat down at his kitchen table, something that gave him a strange Déjà vu feeling.</p><p>“Well at least bring it all over so I can drink with you.”</p><p>Spencer was more than happy to comply, dumping his arm full of bottles onto the table in front of Owen.</p><p>“Do you have weed?”</p><p>Owen was <em>floored</em> at how Spencer was asking him for drugs. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Can we smoke?”</p><p>“Spencer…”</p><p>“What, are you going to give me some lecture about enabling me, Owen? Because I don’t want to hear it right now. All I want is for my brain to <em>slow down</em> for a minute.”</p><p>Spencer didn’t realize he had raised his voice until he finished talking.</p><p>"You better not have flown out here just to yell at me and do all my drugs, Spencer. Because if you did I’ll kick you out and block your number and never think about you again.”</p><p>“You couldn’t forget me even if you wanted to.”</p><p>Owen stared at Spencer, face neutral and mouth shut. Spencer realized he might have gone too far this time, and he was silent as he watched Owen pour himself a glass of wine in the pint glass in front of him.</p><p> “Are you going to tell me what happened?”</p><p>“Only if you promise you won’t hate me for it.”</p><p>“Just tell me, Spencer.”</p><p>The words fell out of Spencer’s mouth like a waterfall. Once he started talking about the case he couldn’t shut up, telling Owen a whole bunch of details that he definitely shouldn’t disclose to a civilian before the paperwork was finished. He watched his <strike>boyfriend’s </strike>face pale and turn a shade of green when Spencer went over the detail, and he remembered how sick he got at the first dead body he saw.</p><p>Maybe Spencer had changed more than Owen.</p><p>Owen sat silently at the table when Spencer was done talking, unable to make eye contact with him. Spencer took this chance to ask Owen one more question.</p><p>“Why did you answer?”</p><p>“Have I ever not answered when you call?”</p><p>“But that doesn’t answer why.”</p><p>“Because I know that if you’re calling me out of the blue it must be something important.”</p><p>Owen wasn’t wrong. Spencer stared at Owen from the other side of the table, trying to figure out what looked <em>different</em> about Owen from the last time he saw him. His hair had changed- it was shorter now, and he had painted his nails black. Had he gained weight? Changed his cologne and deodorant?</p><p>Spencer didn’t know he was crying until Owen reached out to wipe the tears from his face.</p><p>“I don’t hate you for this, Spencer.” Owen said, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to blot the tears from Spencer’s face. “I still don’t think I could ever hate you.”</p><p>“I can’t come back from this, Owen. I don’t know how.”</p><p>“It’s alright to not know things.”</p><p>Owen didn’t know whether to pull Spencer into his arms or to give him space. Spencer made the executive decision when he wrapped his arms tight around Owen’s neck, resting his head against his <strike>boyfriend’s </strike>shoulder. Owen could feel Spencer’s tears on his sweatshirt, and he just held him tight in his arms.</p><hr/><p>Spencer liked the comfort of lying in bed with Owen. He loved the way that he could wrap his extra-long limbs around him, scooping his lover up into his arms when he needed to squeeze something. Owen was more than happy to oblige- he loved the feeling of being held and he especially loved getting to catch up with Spencer.</p><p>Owen would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about him, though. It was one thing when Spencer stopped sending him postcards of the cities he went to, and another thing when they started back up again after he came out to the team. It was a completely different ballpark when Owen was being asked to trauma-coach his ex through something he couldn’t even stomach.</p><p>“I think you should see somebody.”</p><p>“Like on a date? Because believe me I’m trying.”</p><p>“More like a therapist.”</p><p>Spencer pulled his arm out from under Owen, using it instead to prop himself up.</p><p>“I’m not crazy, Owen. I don’t need a therapist.”</p><p>“Am I crazy?” Owen rolled over, sitting up next to Spencer. “Besides, you just experienced a massive trauma. You’d be more insane if you didn’t think you need counseling.”</p><p>Spencer sighed, resting his head against Owen’s bare thigh.</p><p>“You know I hate it when you’re right.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Owen lit a cigarette in bed, passing it to Spencer before he lit one for himself. Spencer glanced up at Owen, watching him exhale smoke through his nose as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.</p><p>“When do you go back to DC?”</p><p>“Monday morning. We’ll have a case then.”</p><p>“They’re sending you right back out there?”</p><p>“Don’t see why they wouldn’t.”</p><hr/><p>Spencer did start going to counseling- the FBI mandated it when he got back. He assumed it was for liabilities sake, and it seemed silly. The BAU often joked they could pass a psych eval with their eyes closed, and Spencer was no exception. He <em>hated</em> sitting on the hard leather couch across from his counselor, and he usually found himself considering the fastest way out of counseling rather than the best way to help himself.</p><p>      </p><p>Spencer passed his psych evaluation a week after he killed a man. His guilt stopped, but his nightmares definitely didn’t.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if any of you work with python you might know how fucking frustrating it is to deal w tabs and space errors and all I can think about when I format this is how much I hate dealing w indentations. <br/>hope u enjoyed! lmk what u think &lt;3 stay safe out there kiddos</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what does it say about my productivity that I'm procrastinating my UWashington application to write, edit, and post this? Something I'm not sure I want to hear.</p><p>hope u enjoy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer was sitting in the bullpen sorting through paperwork when his personal cell phone rang. He knew it had to be Owen (it was either his or his mother’s facility), and Spencer was itching to get his mind off of the Nathan Harris. Spencer had sent him a letter that morning, and it was ruining his concentration.</p><p>When Spencer locked himself in the bathroom to take Owen’s phone call, he was greeted with screaming on the end.</p><p>“I’m a <em>doctor</em>, Spencer! I’m finally fucking done and I’m a doctor and I can finally stop crying about geodesic equations and computer simulations and everything else that’s <em>ruined</em> me for the past 6 years!”</p><p>All Spencer could do was smile. He could <em>hear</em> the smile on Owen’s face over the phone, and Spencer knew exactly what bottle of champagne Owen was going to pick up at the grocery store on his way home.</p><p>“Congrats!”</p><p>“Thanks!! I can’t believe I’m done with this Spencer- no more physics!”</p><p>“Well, don’t you have to figure out what you’re doing with your degree?”</p><p>“I don’t think the future is important when I’m celebrating right now.”</p><p>“Well, I guess that’s true.”</p><p>Spencer glanced around the bathroom, staring at the dirty tile floor.</p><p>“Can I talk you into flying down to celebrate?”</p><p>“Sure!”</p><p>Spencer’s brain ran through all of his social events for the next few months- a limited amount of information to sort through. “Could you come down for the Super bowl? My team and I are going out that night.”</p><p>“I can try!”     </p><p>"Stay for the weekend? I'll take Monday off if you want."</p><p>"Sounds perfect. I'll see you then."</p><p>Spencer had the impulse to say that he loved Owen before he hung up, but the line went down before he had the chance.</p><hr/><p>Super Bowl Sunday <em>terrified</em> Owen- he had no idea how he was going to get <em>drunk </em>with federal agents willingly, let alone on a day celebrating an arbitrary holiday that he didn’t care about, alongside his PhD.</p><p>“There’s a very high chance that I’m going to throw a fit tonight.”</p><p> Owen and Spencer were taking the train to this bar JJ had found, and Owen was convinced they were going to have an awful night.</p><p>“I just… I <em>hate</em> everything the Super Bowl stands for and I also hate everything the FBI stands for and it takes all of my moral integrity to justify spending time with you, so I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.”</p><p>“Then why’d you come down for this?”</p><p>“Because I wanted to see you.”</p><p>Spencer could hear the words Owen wasn’t ready to say. <em>I was worried about you</em> flooded his ears, outweighing the <em>because I love you</em> Owen would probably throw out instead.</p><p>Spencer rolled his eyes, putting his right hand on Owen's thigh. “I bought you two packs of those American Spirits you like. Just go out and take a smoke break every time you want to yell as somebody about everybody on the government payroll is a war criminal, even the one you’re fucking.” He laughed as he slid the cigarettes into Owen’s lap.</p><p>“I forgot how well you know me.”</p><p>Owen laughed as he peeled the plastic wrap off of one of the packs, shoving the other into the pocket of his jacket, and grabbed Spencer’s hand in his own.</p><p>“The offer is contingent on one thing,” Spencer offered, taking his eyes off the window to look at Owen. “And it’s that we get to go outside together when you need a break.”</p><p>Owen smiled at Spencer, shaking his head. “Oh? You’re willing to risk your coworkers finding out you’re a sexual being?”</p><p>“What can I say, I like kissing you when I’m drunk.” Spencer laughed as the train pulled up to their stop. “And I’m very excited we both get to get drunk tonight.”</p><p>The walk to the bar was quick, it was only two blocks west of the train station. Aaron and Haley were waiting outside as Owen and Spencer walked up, holding hands and shivering a little in the cold.</p><p>Owen’s shoulders had released some of their tension by the time they met up with the rest of the BAU. The team there had been drinking for a bit before the couples had arrived, and Owen was a little on edge when he ordered his first drink of the night (a $3 PBR that he split with Spencer), but after the next two, he began to have a little fun. Although he was still turned off by the idea of fraternizing with the government, Owen did have a good time dancing with Penelope and Emily instead of watching the football game on all of the TVs.</p><p>It felt a bit like Boston- sweaty bars with bad music, dancing with friends of your friends, spilling cheap beer in plastic cups on yourself and the people you like. Spencer being a wallflower was new, and Owen didn’t know if it was because Spencer was nervous about having fun in front of his colleagues or if Spencer had stopped enjoying going to bars with him. Owen pulled Spencer out back with him sometime in the second quarter to smoke a cigarette together after he saw Spencer staring into space as Aaron, Haley, and Emily talked around him.</p><p>“Are you having fun?” Spencer asked Owen as he lit up his cigarette outside.</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>Owen smiled as Spencer kissed him, open-mouthed and a little sloppy. Spencer liked this a lot more than he wanted to admit- the fact that Spencer and Owen had avoided labeling their relationship for the past 2 years made it that much more satisfying when Owen kissed him on the cheek in between drags on his cigarette.</p><p>“Are you?” Owen asked him, reaching out for Spencer’s hand in the dark alleyway.</p><p>“I think I’m getting more into it. I just don’t care that much about football.”</p><p>“Then come dance with me!”</p><p>Owen threw his cigarette down on the ground, putting it out with his heel. In one fluid, half-drunk motion he pulled Spencer close to him, leading him in a messy version of a waltz in the alley. They were both drunk enough for the snow falling around them to not be a bother. Spencer and Owen twirled around the alley until the fire door opened back up, Emily, Penelope, and JJ sneaking out back to figure out what exactly Spencer was up to.</p><p>“I knew it! Em, you owe me TWO highballs!” Penelope shrieked.</p><p>Owen loved seeing Spencer turn his usual shade of red- starting in the tips of his ears and working its way into his face. He was more than happy to indulge Spencer’s friends and to kiss his <strike>boyfriend </strike>in front of them, pulling him back inside the bar as the girls gossiped outside.</p><p>Still, all good things must come to an end. The football game was hardly over before JJ had to duck out on a phone call. Haley and Owen exchanged uneasy glances as the BAU’s cell phones all went off, and Owen felt his heart sink.</p><p>Owen was planning on asking Spencer if he could move in with him once he graduated, but he was instantly reminded of why they broke up every time Spencer was called away on a job. He didn’t know what to do about it anymore- was he compromising his personal integrity by still being in love with a class traitor who couldn’t even stay with him throughout the whole 3-day weekend he was promised?</p><p>This was all relayed to Haley, who was more than happy to listen as she drove him home. It was a familiar story, one that had played on repeat in Haley’s head ever since Jack had been born.</p><p>“You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with, you know? And I don’t know if 16-year-old me would’ve cared about how I feel now when she saw Aaron walk into that classroom.”</p><p> “We do get to pick how we respond, though. And I don’t know if I want to do this to myself again.”</p><p>“Then don’t. Spencer loves you, and he’ll understand what you’re doing if you do what’s right for you.”</p><p>Owen didn’t realize they had been sitting outside Spencer’s apartment building for a few minutes now, hazards flashing as they sat silently in the car.</p><p>Owen skipped the elevator, walking up 6 flights of stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He still had a key, and he didn’t bother to turn the lights on as he made his way to Spencer’s bedroom. Owen fell asleep, fully clothed, lying on top of Spencer’s made bed. He was gone by 10 a.m. the next day.</p><hr/><p>Spencer thought about Owen the entire flight to Georgia. He didn’t know what had changed, but something had. It had been three years of this on-and-off casual, airline mile rack up of a relationship. It wasn’t anywhere near what Spencer wanted from Owen, but it was all the two of them were probably capable of at this point.</p><p>It had been so long since Spencer and Owen had met that Spencer had a hard part separating himself from the parts of Owen he had picked up. Spencer couldn’t drive without music playing, and he had a lot of opinions on computer programming languages that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. Spencer could make just about any cocktail, even if they were nowhere near as good at the ones Owen made.  </p><p>"Reid?"</p><p>Spencer snapped back to the present, looking at the jet full of his teammates as he remembered that they were on a case.</p><hr/><p>Owen was in his lab, helping some undergrads with their Differential Equations homework when he got a call from a blocked number. He declined the call, and it rang again immediately, so he excused himself quickly and walked into the hallway.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hi, Owen? It’s Penelope Garcia, I’m calling about Spencer.”</p><p>“Is he okay?”</p><p>“Well, we… we don’t know. He ran off after an unsub and we haven’t been able to locate him. It looks like he’s been abducted by the unsub.”</p><p>Owen’s stomach dropped as Penelope kept talking- the BAU was a very successful team in the field and they were working to get Spencer back. Owen wasn’t thinking about not getting Spencer back alive, but he was terrified of how Spencer would get returned to him. Spencer had changed in the few short years he had been working for the FBI, braking him down a little every time he saw graphic crime scene photos or did a cognitive interview on a victim, and Owen knew that this was going to be awful for him.</p><p>Penelope said Owen shouldn’t come out to Georgia until they recovered Spencer- they had no idea how he would come back to them, and there were some things Owen should stay home for.</p><p>“Ransom demands, other weird correspondence, Spencer reaching out to you” Penelope offered, her voice breaking as she spoke. “And I know it’s hard, hearing this and knowing you have to stay put. But there is some part of being in the field that you don’t need to know right now.”</p><p>Owen stayed in his itty-bitty office in the lab for the rest of the day, working on mindless tasks to stay occupied until he absolutely had to go home. There was nothing he could do, really. His ex-boyfriend was being held hostage by some psycho killer in Georgia, he was still listed as Spencer’s emergency contact (even though they had been broken up for almost 3 years at that point), and all Owen could do was get drunk and try to not think about whatever was happening to Spencer.</p><p> </p><p>Owen woke up in a cold sweat at 2 pm the next day. He had no messages, no missed calls, and a half-full handle of gin in the freezer. It wasn’t all that early to start drinking.</p><p>Halfway through the VHS tape of Spencer’s favorite Dr. Who episodes, Owen’s cell phone rang. He practically leapt over the couch to answer it.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hi, it’s Penelope. Again. I’m really sorry but we don’t know anything else right now.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Owen felt his heart drop to his feet.</p><p>“I just wanted to see if you were okay. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now and I just-”</p><p>“I’m fine. Compared to Spencer, at least. Maybe you should be more concerned with finding him than doing courtesy calls.”</p><p>Owen hung up, snapping his cell phone shut and chucking it across the room. Perhaps not his smartest room, but he had been drunk since 3 pm and all he wanted was some relief.</p><p> </p><p>When Owen’s cell phone rang the next day, he could barely get himself out of bed to answer it. He was terrified of what would be on the other side.</p><p>It was good news- Spencer was alive, albeit very shaken up, and he would be back in DC by the next morning.</p><p>“We can book you a flight down if you want?”</p><p>“I’d rather drive.”</p><p>All of the anxiety coursing through Owen’s veins collapsed- leaving him feeling hollow and shaken. Owen didn’t remember his drive down to DC by the time he got there, showing up at Spencer’s apartment with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his car double-parked in front.</p><p>Owen didn’t even have to knock before Spencer opened the door.</p><p>“Hey there, stranger.”</p><p>Spencer wasn’t anticipating getting tackled to the ground by Owen, although he probably should have. Spencer also wasn’t anticipating crying in front of Owen again, but he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It felt a little silly- both of them crying in the entryway of his apartment with the door wide open. Maybe it was because Spencer was out of his mind high on Dilaudid, brain finally quiet, but he felt happy, even if he had just gotten released from the hospital an hour before.</p><p>Dazed, Spencer felt Owen getting up off of him. Spencer sat up as Owen mumbled something about moving his car, leaving Spencer sitting on the floor of his living room. Pushing himself up to his feet, Spencer grabbed Owen’s forgotten duffle bag and carried it into his bedroom.</p><p>Spencer’s apartment was a little messy and Spencer spent most of his time waiting for Owen to come back up shoving his stuff into drawers and under his bed. Owen came in silently, wrapping his arms around himself as he watched Spencer clean up.</p><p>“Do you want help?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>Spencer kicked a pair of shoes into his closet, tripping over his feet as he made his way towards Owen.</p><p>“I was so sure the next time I was going to see you was at your funeral.” Owen said, trying to hold back his tears.</p><p>“But here we are.”</p><p>“Here we are.”</p><p>Spencer kissed Owen, pulling him backward and further into his bedroom. Owen kissed Spencer back, grabbing his lover’s face and holding him close. Spencer backed up into his bed and pulled Owen down with him.</p><p>“I’m not going to have sex with you.” Owen said, kissing the side of Spencer’s face.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Seems like a self-harm activity.”</p><p>Owen moved to kiss Spencer again, and Spencer pushed him away.</p><p>“You don’t get to do this, you know. Tell me what is and isn’t healthy.”</p><p>“Well, you’re sure as shit not telling yourself.”</p><p>“Don’t think you have a PhD in Psychology.”</p><p>Owen rolled over in bed, away from Spencer.</p><p>“I didn’t come down here for this.”</p><p>“Then what did you come down here for?”</p><p>“To make sure you’re okay! To make sure that you aren’t going to kill yourself, or do something equally impulsive and stupid.”</p><p>Spencer bit his tongue. It took all of his willpower to not tell Owen that he had, in fact, done something impulsive and stupid, like shoot a high-powered opioid into his veins to stop his brain from playing the supercut of his recent traumas.</p><p>“I can tell you want to say something, Spencer.” Owen said, staring at his <strike>boyfriend</strike> from across the bed.</p><p>“I did something stupid.”</p><p>“Well, what did you do?”</p><p>Spencer’s mind ran through the long list of every stupid thing he had done in the past 72 hours.</p><p>Go off into that cornfield without JJ, stealing the Dilaudid from Tobias Hankel’s dead body, not changing Owen from his emergency contact (although Spencer didn’t know who would replace him). Using the Dilaudid he had stolen, even though Spencer <em>knew</em> he had an addictive personality and the statistics on opioid abuse.</p><p> “I killed him.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The man who was holding me hostage.”</p><p>“That’s not really stupid, Spencer.” Owen’s voice was softer now, eyebrows creasing his forehead. “You did what you had to do.”</p><p>“I did my job.”</p><p>“That right, babe. You did your job.”</p><p>Spencer was crying now, hot tears streaking down his face. Owen didn’t quite know what to do, but Spencer wiped his own face dry before Owen could.</p><p>“How long can you stay?”</p><p>“As long as you need me here.”</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hehehe things have to get worse before they get better, sometimes. this is one of those times.</p><p>thanks for reading! hmu here or on my tumblr (same handle) if u wanna talk about this.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welcome to the end!! thank u so much for reading this far, and for all the kind words people have sent me &lt;3 </p><p>i hope this chapter gives u the closure u want</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer woke up three hours before Owen did and slipped out of bed. He was quiet, walking soft on his feet towards the bathroom. Spencer could feel the sweat on the back of his neck, the way his stomach was turning, and the awful feeling creeping through his brain. Sometimes, when he had nightmares about Tobias, he would wake Owen up with his tossing and turning and his <strike>boyfriend</strike> would make him tea and rub his back until his brain stopped racing. Tonight, though, Spencer was alone.</p><p>Every night for the past six weeks, Spencer had woken up in the middle of the most terrifying nightmare he had ever had. It was something he couldn’t forget, the fear of death, looking down the barrel of a gun. The only thing that could calm him down was getting high, and Spencer was starting to hate that about himself.</p><p>He sat on the cool tile of the bathroom, as he thought about what he was about to do. Every time he shot up, Spencer wanted to ask for help. If he could, he’d run into the bedroom and tell Owen everything. Spencer knew that he couldn’t tell Owen, though. He was too far in, too deep in the secret to come clean. So, Spencer opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a wooden cigar box.</p><p>Slowly, carefully, and quietly Spencer pulled out what he needed. The vial, alcohol swaps, 22 G syringe, the first tie Owen bought him. Spencer was clean, and he swabbed down the crook of his arm and the top of the vial before he picked up the vial. He was careful to check for air bubbles, even now as he got more desperate for his fix- the last thing he needed was an embolism from shooting up in his bathroom. Spencer tied off his arm just as carefully, one end of the tie in his mouth as he wrapped the tie around his arm tighter than he could stand. With his free hand, he picked up the needle, aimed for his vein, and shoved it in his arm.</p><p>The immediate relief of the Dilaudid kicked Spencer right in the chest, just like it always did. The high of the drug made up for how awful Spencer had felt just moments before, the euphoria hit before he was even done injecting. His head spinning, Spencer pulled the needle from his arm, recapped it, and threw it under the sink. A quick yank on the tie freed it from his arm, and Spencer made his way to the living room. He lay down on the couch, a little confused but fully, totally relieved.</p><hr/><p>The next thing Spencer saw was Owen standing over him in his boxers and his glasses, arms crossed.</p><p>“Welcome back to the world.” Owen said, walking away when Spencer woke up. “Too good to share a bed with me anymore?”</p><p>Spencer’s stomach ached in its usual way as he sat up on the couch.</p><p>“No, I woke up in the middle of the night and moved out here.”</p><p>It hurt Spencer to lie directly to Owen, but he had rationalized it when he first starting using regularly. It had gotten a lot easier recently, which hurt Spencer more than the lie itself.</p><p>“Do you want coffee?”</p><p>“Yes please.”</p><p>Spencer made his way back into the bathroom, checking under the sink to make sure he had remembered to clean up when he was high. The needles were in the sharp’s container, the bathroom was clean, and Spencer could breathe again. He splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth in a hurry. Spencer was sure to put on a sweatshirt before he went back out into the living room.</p><p>Owen was sitting in the dining room, silent as he drank his coffee. Owen <em>knew</em> something was wrong, he knew Spencer was acting different but he didn’t know why. Owen assumed post-traumatic stress disorder, being held captive by a serial killer is a trauma, and Spencer was nothing besides a 6’3 ball of stress.</p><p>“You’re going back to work today?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Are you ready?”</p><p>“As ready as I’ll ever be.”</p><p>Owen got up to make Spencer a cup of coffee- something he did without thinking these days. Owen had spent the past six weeks taking care of Spencer. It was nice- peaceful domestic bliss that both Owen and Spencer could pretend was normal.</p><p>“So, does that mean you want me to go back to Boston?”</p><p>“I don’t know why you’re asking. I <em>always</em> wanted you to be in DC with me, Owen.”</p><p>“You didn’t ask.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Owen slid spencer a coffee mug and the sugar bowl, careful to not brush his hands against Spencer’s.</p><p>“When you took your job you never even <em>asked</em> if I wanted to move down here with you. You just assumed I wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Would you have?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Did you want me to?”</p><p>“A little.”</p><p>Spencer scooped two tablespoons of sugar into the cup and stirred, staring at his mug instead of Owen.</p><p> “I just don’t see why you have to go.”</p><p>Owen wanted to tell Spencer that he’d stay if he asked, but Owen didn’t know if that were true. If Spencer asked him to move in with him he’d probably say no out of spite, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to. It was the same as when Spencer took the job in the first place, but this time there was a whole bunch of reasons to stay. Owen was still struggling to figure out his relationship with Spencer- whether or not it was entirely healthy to drop everything to nurse his ex-boyfriend back to health.</p><p>“I broke up with you for a reason, Spencer. I don’t want to here for a man that’s gone 5 days a week.”</p><p>“I’ll quit my job then!”</p><p>“No, you won’t.” Owen sighed, pushing his coffee cup towards the center of the table as he lit a cigarette. “I wouldn’t let you.”</p><p>“Then why are you still here?”</p><p>“Who else would be?”</p><p>Spencer sat in silence. Maybe he <em>did</em> hate Owen a little bit. He didn’t ask for this- he just hadn’t changed his emergency contact information or his cell-phone speed dials since they had broken up. All Spencer needed was somebody to make sure he didn’t kill himself, not somebody who was going to throw the fact he was entirely alone in the world into his face every time something went wrong.</p><p>Owen ashed his cigarette, looking at Spencer.</p><p>“You’d do this for me, wouldn’t you? I mean, you have. You moved in with me after I got jumped.”</p><p>“It’s not the same thing.”</p><p>“Of <em>course,</em> it’s not the same thing, Spencer. I just want you to know you’re loved.”</p><p>Spencer sure as shit didn’t feel loved right now. He felt tired- stomach twisting at the thought of finishing his coffee. He wanted a cigarette, or maybe a drink. He definitely wanted to get high but he didn’t know how feasible that was with his long train ride ahead of him.</p><p>“You can leave whenever you want, Owen. I’m not keeping you here.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll go then.” Owen stubbed out his cigarette, getting up as he spoke. “You’re obviously fine if you’re going back to the same fucking job that’s giving you PTSD.”</p><p>“Maybe you should.”</p><p>Owen shook his head, dumping his coffee out in the sink and setting the mug down on the counter.</p><p>“I’ll be gone by the time you’re back from work. Don’t worry about it.”</p><hr/><p>Penelope was the first person to ask about Owen when Spencer got into work. Spencer had gotten high before work (in the bathroom of the train station), but the relief from the Dilaudid was wearing off by the time Spencer got settled at his cubicle. Penelope didn’t mean to be mean, either, she was just attempting to make polite small talk when Spencer snapped.</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope. We’re done. He went back to Boston this morning.”</p><p>JJ and Emily held their eye contact long enough for Spencer to notice. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with pity, especially from two women that honestly had no place in their relationship. This was part of the reason Spencer had never wanted to come out in the first place, whether about Owen or his sexuality in general.</p><p>Some things were just private.</p><hr/><p>Sometimes, when Spencer got really high and also a little drunk, he thought about calling Owen. He didn’t know what he would say- apologizing felt insincere and Spencer didn’t think there was anything else he could say to Owen. Usually, Spencer just dialed the numbers and didn’t hit call.</p><hr/><p>Without Owen, life seemed fine. It was arguably not fine for Spencer- he was using more and more often, sometimes at work. Once even on the jet back from a case, but only when he was sure everyone else on the team was fast asleep.</p><p>Nobody was close enough to Spencer to see him falling apart, not at first. Sure, the team noticed <em>something</em> was off, but they just assumed it was him coming off of a rough few years on the job and breaking up with his first serious boyfriend.</p><p>It took Spencer falling asleep in 3 profile briefings, him breaking 2 cell phones, and finally kicking the shit out of an unsub in Topeka, Kansas for somebody to notice.</p><p>Hotch was the one who finally made the call, calling Spencer into his office on a Monday morning before their weekly briefing.</p><p>“Something’s changed, Reid.”</p><p>Spencer wasn’t high when he was called into Aaron’s office. Tired, sure, but not sky-high on drugstore heroin.</p><p>“A lot has changed, sir.”</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>Hotch reached under his desk and pulled out Spencer’s employee file. He pulled out a pen and opened it up, flipping to a blank form.</p><p>
  <strong>CONTRACT TERMINATION</strong>
</p><p>“I don’t know what’s happened to you, Reid. Quite honestly, I’m not sure if I want to. But the way I see it, I have two options. Either help you sort this out or let you go. And the choice is yours.”</p><p>Spencer instinctively reached for his badge and his gun, but inside he was tired. He was tired of keeping up this double life, tired of pretending he was fine when he was very clearly not. He had picked up a bit of a rebellious streak from Owen, but Spencer felt his stomach lurch at the thought of leaving his job.</p><p>It had been a long 10 months for Spencer- trying to hide his addiction had taken up more brainpower than he thought it would. His savings account was empty, his fridge rarely had food in it, and all Spencer ever thought about was the next time he was going to get high. He had always told himself he was smart enough to keep himself out of trouble, but that wasn’t true anymore.</p><p>“Reid, I know it can be hard for you to talk about personal issues with the team, but this is serious.”</p><p>It felt like being a child, getting yelled at for breaking a plate by his parents. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and Spencer wanted to cry, but he couldn’t embarrass himself anymore in front of Hotch.</p><p>Hotch sighed at Spencer. The kid looked awful- dark circles nearly taking over his face, clothes baggy in the worst possible way. If Hotch had to guess (and he very much did not) he would guess drugs- probably downers with the way Spencer was always dozing off.</p><p>“I can’t do this anymore, Hotch.”</p><hr/><p>Spencer’s rehab program was a 21-day in-patient program that he picked because it had the prettiest brochure. The only person at work who knew was Aaron, mostly because he was the one that held the intervention and was the one who had to sign the time off forms. He had asked Aaron to keep things quiet while he was gone, and he hoped Hotch knew how hard it was to talk to him about this (he did). He took his yearly leave, dodged Morgan and Garcia’s endless questions about where he was going, avoided Emily and JJ’s worrying eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Gideon- Gideon trusted his protégée more than he should have.</p><p>Hotch dropped Spencer off bright and early on a Tuesday morning. He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car, and when Spencer made the move to open the door, Hotch grabbed his arm.</p><p>“Reid?”</p><p>"Yeah?”</p><p>Spencer’s eyes were in and out of focus- he was 28 hours sober and all he could think about was how much his stomach hurt, the thoughts swirling in his head, how much he wanted to get high and not have to think anymore.</p><p>“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.”</p><p>Hotch hadn’t been able to look Spencer in the eye since he found out he was using- he had the feeling in his heart that this was all his fault, and that he should’ve noticed before it got this bad. The last three days had been a whirlwind- and Hotch and Spencer were both exhausted.</p><p> “I know.”</p><hr/><p>Spencer’s rehab experience was un-eventful. A lot of decaf coffee and herbal cigarettes, group therapy and puking into pink basins as he went through detox. It was exactly what Spencer needed, even if he didn’t want to admit it.</p><p>It was going to be hard, his therapist explained one day as Spencer sat on a plush velvet sofa. He had been self-medicated with alcohol a lot longer than he had realized, and he had been fond of shutting his brain off with substances as long as he had been in love with Owen. So, most of his adult life.</p><p>Spencer thought back to the comfort in being high, giving in to the feeling, letting himself lose control- and that was the point he got into drugs. More than experimenting, taking them when Owen offered them up on weekends and at parties. He was flooded with a flashback to every time he called a drug dealer on a payphone threw up into a random person’s toilet, every nose bleed and bad trip that he barely remembered. And he thought they were worth it, for the peace of mind and the good times. Spencer could stop any time he wanted to, he had told himself, convincing himself he was weighing the pros and cons every time he took out cash at the ATM.</p><p>Before Spencer checked out, his therapist told him he might want to get a head start on the seeking forgiveness part of his sobriety.</p><p>“Oftentimes, it’s easier for people to confront difficult emotions when they’re in a controlled environment. You might find it better to make amends now, rather than later.”</p><p>Spencer swallowed hard. He <em>really</em> didn’t want to call Owen, but his therapist was insistent. Picking up the black corded phone, Spencer dialed Owen’s phone number from muscle memory. He listened to the line ring through to the voicemail message.</p><p>“Hi! It’s Lucy! You’ve called when I can’t answer, so leave a message at the beep!”</p><p>What?</p><p>“Did you get the number wrong?”</p><p>“No- I remember it.”</p><p>Spencer tried again, this time thinking about the numbers as he pressed them. Still, all Spencer got was Lucy’s voicemail and not Owen's.</p><p>“Do you want to try again?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Spencer felt like he was going to cry and he just felt <em>silly</em>. Of course, Owen had changed his phone number- why would he want any contact with Spencer after the way Spencer had treated him. Still, Spencer just wanted to apologize. He <em>had </em>to.</p><hr/><p>When Spencer got back to work, everybody treated him like he was made of glass. Spencer appreciated it at first- he wasn’t used to being treated with such care. It was nice getting to stay out of the field, and it was also nice to know people were actively invested in Spencer’s recovery. He shut it down when Penelope offered to bedazzle his 30-day chip for him, but it was fun while it lasted.</p><p>The only person who knew about Owen changing his phone number was JJ. She had come by his apartment one night to check on him, and Spencer ended up crying in her arms and telling her every sob story from his life.</p><p>“You know Penelope could track him down in 15 seconds, right?”</p><p>“If he wants me out of his life I don’t want to intrude.”</p><p>“Still, Spencer. If you need to move on, you need to move on.”</p><hr/><p>When the Reaper popped back up, Spencer’s stomach couldn’t stop turning. He threw up three times on the jet, blaming turbulence, but nobody questioned his thinly-veiled excuse. Boston made Spencer nervous.</p><p>At least he would get to have those blue margaritas again.</p><p>On one of the long cold nights they were working, Spencer “borrowed” an FBI SUV and drove to his old apartment with Owen. Owen’s car wasn’t in the parking lot anymore, and Spencer didn’t know whether he was relieved or crushed. He thought about all the memories in their shitty apartment, the way the neighbor above them would vacuum at 2 am sometimes, or how the heat worked a little too well in the winters and Spencer and Owen had to sleep naked, sweaty bodies spread out across the queen-sized mattress.</p><p>When Spencer got back to the police station, Morgan was waiting outside for him. He knew the team was probably just worried about him relapsing, and Spencer knew he was grateful for the support system. Morgan didn’t ask questions, didn’t tell Spencer anything personal. All he did was hand Spencer a sealed envelope with <em>Owen Polk</em> scrawled across the front in a pink glittery pen.</p><p>Must be Garcia’s doing.</p><p>Spencer didn’t open the envelope for months- they got too busy with George Foyet for personal distractions, and Spencer didn’t really want to open that can of worms. Spencer didn’t open the envelope until Owen’s birthday.</p><p>It would be his 29<sup>th</sup>. Spencer couldn’t imagine how Owen must have changed over the years. He didn’t really want to, honestly. It was easy to let Owen stay young in his mind, to pretend like they were both still young and hopeful and in love with each other.</p><p>Spencer threw up three times before he managed to dial the numbers into his cell phone. He was sober, just nervous.</p><p>Thankfully, the phone rang out.</p><p>“Hey there! It’s Owen! I’m probably at work, so just leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.”</p><p>Spencer’s ears registered the beep, and the words were spilling out of his mouth before he could figure out what he wanted to say.</p><p>“Hi, Owen. It’s Spencer- Spencer Reid. From MIT.”</p><p>Spencer sighed. Of course, Owen would know who he was.</p><p>“God, I bet I sound stupid right now. Calling you 2 years after I told you I didn’t need you.”</p><p>There was the familiar feeling of nausea creeping up on Spencer, and he <em>knew</em> it was just anxiety, but he still had to swallow bile before he could say anything else.</p><p>“I want to apologize, Owen. For everything- for how I treated you and for not doing this sooner. I don’t have an excuse, I guess, but I have an explanation. If you want to hear it, I’d love to tell you. But I don’t want you to think that you have to call me back, especially because you changed your phone number and somebody at the FBI gave me this one. I know you hate the government and you probably hate me, but I really am sorry Owen. And I wanted to tell you.”</p><p>Spencer <em>knew </em>he was crying by now, tears hitting the floor as they rolled off his cheeks.</p><p>“Happy birthday, Owen. I hope you have a day as great as you are.”</p><p>Spencer puked into his kitchen sink the second he hung up, dry heaving long after he emptied the contents of his stomach into the metal basin.</p><hr/><p>Owen was having a <em>great</em> birthday when his home phone rang. He had taken the day off of work and had spent the day in bed with his girlfriend, eating Chinese food and drinking wine while watching reruns of Jeopardy.</p><p>It had been almost a year since Spencer crossed his mind, and when Owen didn’t recognize the number calling he chose to let it go to voicemail instead. He still had his old answering machine from grad school- the one that screened his calls and had a too-loud beep.</p><p>When Spencer’s voice came across the speaker, Owen dropped his wine glass.</p><p>“Who’s Spencer? Is he one of your friends from MIT?”</p><p>Owen’s girlfriend wasn’t fazed by the broken glass- Owen had always been clumsy, but she was off-put by the way Owen’s face paled as Spencer left his message. Obviously, Spencer had been more than an old friend at some point, but Owen shut the conversation down.</p><p>“He’s somebody I used to date. Haven’t thought about him in ages.”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“Perfectly fine.”</p><p>Owen hadn’t made a move to pick the glass up off of the floor or to mop up the spilled wine, he was just staring at the answering machine.</p><p>“Are you going to call him back?”</p><p>“Haven’t decided yet.”</p><p>Owen’s girlfriend looked him in the eye, sizing up her boyfriend. He had never seemed so bothered before.</p><p>“Are you going to clean that up?”</p><hr/><p>Owen didn’t call Spencer back for almost a week. He didn’t really know what he wanted to say- he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Spencer’s apology, to bring up all those old memories and feelings he had worked so hard to squash.</p><p>Still, Owen locked himself in his bedroom one day, took three shots for courage, and dialed Spencer’s old cell phone number with shaky hands.</p><p>He answered on the first ring.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hi Spencer, it’s Owen.”</p><p>“You changed your number.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Spencer was quiet on the other end of the line. Owen could barely remember his face, but he knew there was a stack of pictures in the closet that would break his heart if he looked at them.</p><p>“Because of me?”</p><p>“It’s because I moved halfway across the country.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Owen sighed. He <em>really</em> wanted a cigarette and another shot, especially if he was going to start thinking about Spencer on a regular basis again.</p><p>“Are you going to explain yourself now?”</p><p>“Do you want me to?”</p><p>“Why else would I call?”</p><p>Owen flinched at the words as they left his mouth. He didn’t mean to be callous, but he wasn’t willing to fall back in love with Spencer. Not now, at least.</p><p>“I had a drug problem. Dilaudid. It started when I was kidnapped on the case- the man holding me kept me drugged up so I wouldn’t fight back. It spiraled out from there. You caught me right at the start of it, when I just wanted to get high all the time and pretend like that could fix all my problems.”</p><p>“And you took it out on me?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Owen heard Spencer take a deep breath. “And I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What step is that?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Making amends.”</p><p>“Nine. But three of the previous ones are directly related to God, so I didn’t do them.”</p><p>Owen couldn’t help but laugh at that.</p><p>“Are you doing better now, at least?”</p><p>“As good as I can be. Over a year sober at this point.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Thank you for calling me back, Owen. It really means a lot.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Owen was out of things to say. He didn’t want to be rude or to remind Spencer that the problems in their relationship started long before Spencer’s drug problem. He also didn’t want to get sucked back into the fantasy of loving a man that cared more about his job than his boyfriend.</p><p>“I have to go- we’re on a case and we need to do a briefing.”</p><p>“I understand. I accept your apology, Spencer.”</p><p>Spencer was silent on the other end of the line. Owen thought he could hear voices- people arguing in the background of the call.</p><p> “I love you, Spencer.”</p><p>“I love you too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i cant believe this is over :,) but are things ever really over???</p><p>thank u for sticking around. I know I hate sad gay stories but I don't think I'm capable of writing anything else. I have a few more criminal minds fics popping around in my mind, and i hope you all get the chance to read them someday!</p><p>thank u again! love u all<br/>xoxo guccipherous</p>
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